Fourteen Blooming Roses
by FallenScarletRose
Summary: "Tyki, Eaze, Lize, Erne: this is my family; the people I trust the most in the world. I found them, they saved me. I will never betray them." What if you have no choice but to do so? What if your fate has already decided by God? TykixOCxLavi
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter one**

Today is a special day. I'm travelling with my family along the country side, passing long fields of golden maize and corn, on the back of rickety cart pulled by a petite chestnut horse. The wooden cart bumps up and down on the rocky path, causing my bony knees to clash continuous against each other.

I find it amazing how that slim, miniature horse can pull all one…two…four…all six of us and one fat cart full of straw. His legs shake violently as it struggles forwards with each step of its battered hooves. A whip lashes at his back every time his steps begin to falter, causing him to neigh in complaint and push his legs harder.

Poor Chestnut. Yes, I like the name. It matches his dusty brown coat, his proud sleek mane. That would be his favourite time of everyday; when the brush ran through the silky hair running down his neck, making him feel clean again. How I would love to be the girl to run the brush through the soft fur, spending hours a day just sitting by his side and running the brush up and down.

Maybe I can be the one; maybe if I ask the man cracking the whip nicely, he will let me stroke Chestnut for a while. He might let me, if I offer something in return, like some fresh corn from the cornfield right beside the road we are travelling on. Or maybe if tell him that today is really a special today, that it can be the small present for today.

From under my threadbare coat, I pull out a sketchpad and rest it on my lap. There is a fresh page laid out, pristine as a cloudless blue sky. I also take out a stout pencil. It is stout because it is old. It is the only one I own. I have owned it for a long time and reduced it to the length of my thumb. It is usually tucked behind my ear, but now it is far too short for that. The lead is still sharp and strong. I press the lead onto the white paper, drawing a gray line across the page.

The line curves, dips, dives, and rises up again. I lift the tip of the pencil of the page. The line has ended. It is a wonky line, distorted by the up and down motion of the cart. I draw a few quicker, sharper strokes over those lines and bend them together to form a thicker, straighter line. The line continues onwards around the paper, before reaching back to the starting point. I trace over some parts of it again, accenting some areas and smudging away imprecise ones. For detail, I flick the lead downwards on the paper several times sharply.

The cart halts suddenly, sending my head jolting forward. I lift the pencil off the paper just in time as my hand jerks as well. I stow the sketchpad and pencil back inside the safety of my coat.

We slowly hop of the little cart. The base ascends as the cart empties. It sighs in relief when Eaze, the last person onboard, hops off. He murmurs thanks through his surgical mask to the taller, owner of the horse. We all do the same. I add my own special thanks to Chestnut, who grunts in response, flicking his lovely hair out of his eyes. He's saying "maybe you can brush my mane another day."

"Yo Tyki, where are we going?" Lize asks as Chestnut's tail swishes around a bend and disappears. Tyki takes a long sip from his cigarette, before breathing out a large puff of smoke. I frown at him. All that smoke clouding up in his lungs can't be good for him.

"For a train ride," he says, watching the smoke evaporate into the cold atmosphere.

"What for?" he takes another breath.

"It's a special day today, isn't Rose?" Tyki's eyes gaze down at from behind his thick lenses, a smile stretched wide across his face. He is a whole head taller than me and I have to tilt my head upwards to wrinkle my brows at him.

_What's so special about that? We always go on train rides._

"Just taking a short trip before heading off the factory," Tyki says simply. His grin widens.

The gravel crunches loudly beneath our feet. I can hear the wind whooshing past us, making the leaves on the trees rustle in excitement. It plays with my hair too, urging me to feel the adrenaline. My locks of brown hair flutter madly around my face. The birds resting on the branches chirp their anticipation. Even the clouds look like they're dancing with restlessly. They all seem to know that today is a special day.

I should be feeling the exhilaration as well, the escalation of my heartbeat. My feet should be dancing with the clouds as we make our way up the hill. But no; I don't feel any of it. I don't know why. I never feel the excitement. Every year, when the day comes, I never do. I probably never will.

The red bricks of the train station loom into sight. Thick vines grapple to all sides of the cracked walls. Tyki buys the tickets for us from the station-keeper, who is sitting boringly through the bars of his mini office. Any moment, his eyes are going to droop and he will topple to the floor. I am sure of it.

I am wrong. He lazily hands Tyki five paper tickets in exchange for the shiny silver coins and then lays back into his comfy seat, placing the newspaper over his face. He's trying to shield his fatigued eyes from the rays of the sun, which are piercing mercilessly through the folds of the newspaper. A book would have done a better job, though he has none at hand. At least the light will keep him from falling asleep for when the occasional (though rare) passengers show up with money in their hands.

I settle down on the cold wooden bench two steps away, dropping my small suitcase beside me. Lize and Erne do the same.

There's really nothing inside the battered old case. Tucked away inside the thin layer of brown leather are the few spare clothes I've acquired over these many years. They are frayed, just like the grey coat hanging over my shoulders and the brown bits of clothe that cover my feet. Then there are also the precious flower buds that have yet to bloom.

I take the sketchpad out again. Now that there is nothing disturbing my vision, I observe my work from afar. It's rough, scratchy, slightly undefined in most areas. Drawing my nose up to the page, I scrutinize my work up close. If only I had a rubber to adjust the lines and fix the shape of the-

"Haven't I seen that horse somewhere?" Tyki sits down beside me as I tilt my head up to meet his gaze through the thick lenses. He peers interestedly at my picture while scratching his clean chin. I can't help but feel a smile stretch across my face. Typical Tyki; he always gets it right. "Ahh, that's right. He was the handsome chestnut that pulled us on the cart."

Using the side of my thumb, I smudge it along the roughest lines on the horse back. The streaks of gray begin to blend together under the friction of my thumb, creating shadows. The horse appears smoother now, more relaxed and less violent. It is galloping freely over the invisible lush, green hills. If I had a brown pencil, Chestnut would have a gleaming brown coat. But for now, the work is finished.

Eaze plops his small figure on the other side of me. His glassy blue eyes wander from the horses flapping main to its whipping tail. His blonde eyebrows curl upwards. Even though I cannot see the smile hidden behind his surgical mask, I know he likes the picture. I smile back at him.

Tyki and Eaze; two of the closest friends I have. They have become like what my limbs are to me; without them, I can possibly not survive and will be forever reminded of the pain with the scars that are visible. I hope to never lose them, to never feel the pain.

Upwards I glance at the clock hanging from the ceiling overhanging the platform. 1:30 it reads. We had mashed potatoes and sandwiches for lunch nearly an hour ago…

The train comes thundering down the line, leaving a trail of thick smoke lingering in its wake. The pumping metal wheels screeches to a stop as it reaches the platform. The rusty doors skid open and the passengers begin to disembark.

Waves of coloured hats flood out. Amongst the bright hats, some black top hats stand tall and proud. They all sit on the heads of the rich. My eyes wonder over the different faces. I find no familiar ones. Their eyes avert mine with their heads held high. None of them wish to be associated with me. I don't blame them. There are some people in the world that you should never talk to.

We wait for the train-keeper to blow his whistle and signal for us to board. To the furthermost carriage we walk, past the elegantly crafted metal carriages with sophisticated red curtains drawn over the many stainless glass windows. We stop at some more ragged curtains. In fact, they look more like grey rags that were merely thrown over the dirty windows.

The door slides shut again and the train clicks into motion. I drop into the hard wooden seat.

"Would you look at that…not a cloud in the sky," Lize says as he stares through the clean section of the window. My eyes follow his gaze. They settle on a cloudless, blue sky.

It's so clear, flawless, serene, and perfect; a blanket of baby blue spread evenly across the vastness of the sky. The end is nowhere in the sight, leading into some other world. What an adventure that would be, to find the end. A never-ending adventure…

Absent-mindedly, my fingers fiddle with the pendant hanging around my neck. I trace the metal vines twined around the spherical glass container. The delicate rose bud that resides inside, swirling, trapped, protected in its little glass world, safe from the infinite world outside.

"Just the perfect weather ain't it? Perfect weather for a special day." Tyki's voice cuts through my hazy thoughts. I mentally shake myself awake and purse my lips at him.

_You're pushing it. Really pushing it._

His mouth curls into a smile of smugness, tempting me to hit him over the head and send his glasses skidding of his nose. Instead, I distract myself by reaching for my suitcase.

_Where's my suitcase?_

I scramble off my seat, sticking my head below the seat. Nothing. On my knees, I scour underneath the entire row of seats. Nothing. My panicky feet carry me around the carriage. I peek at every seat, empty and occupied. None of the luggage is mine.

_Crap._

I hadn't left it on any of the wooden seats that bumped up and down as the train sped along the rail line; it was the lonely seat on the platform that my suitcase sits abandoned and alone right now. I have to get it back.

As I swerve around to leap out the window, my head makes contact with Tyki's chest.

"Missing something?" he says, cocking a grin.

_How could you possibly smile in a situation like this, Tyki?_

I frown at him. My hand is itchy to connect with the side of his head. I bite my lip to hold down all the stress and panic that has risen inside me. My eyes dart gingerly everywhere. Still nothing.

"Hey if you don't want it…" Tyki casually throws his hands into the air and begins to back off. Clutched in his right hand; a suitcase with a white ribbon tied to the leather handle.

I sigh in pure relief, wiping away the cold sweat that has built up on my forehead. Tyki is laughing his head off as I reach to grab back my procession. This time, my hand does connect with his face; hard.

He is still laughing as his cheek begins to turn red from the impact of my hand. His thick lenses has skidded an inch down his nose, exposing his thin, brown eyebrows but not the eyes. That was as my damage as my hand did. I wish I hit him hard enough to send him crashing to the ground.

_It isn't funny Tyki!_

He should be on fire by now. The ferocity of my glare is vibrating hotly in the air.

"Hey, you should be thanking me. You were the one for left it on the platform." He rubs the side of his cheek and pushes his glasses upwards, before casting a "you-should-have-looked-after-your-own-stuff" look. I pout at him in return, softening my glare.

_Fine. Thank-you then._

He grins once again.

"Come on. Even Lize and Erne are more organised than you."

At the mention of their names, Lize in his beanie and Erne with his straight hair turn towards me.

_That's because you guys don't carry any luggage._

I click my tongue at him impatiently.

"What about Eaze then? He's so organised. He never forgets any of his luggage." He gestures to the backpack lying on the floor beside him. Eaze looks up with his innocent eyes.

_That's because you carry it around for him._

We are now all grouped in a circle in the middle of the carriage corridor. I am standing beside Tyki, clutching tightly to the precious suitcase in my hands; Tyki is smoking his cigarette, letting the disgusting smoke swirl into the atmosphere; Eaze is kneeling on the edge of his seat, peering curiously at our argument. If he didn't look so young and innocence, I would say he actually understood what we were talking about; Lize is smiling in amusement with his bony cheeks; Erne is uninterestingly watching our conversation. It looks like his going to fall asleep any moment now.

This is my family; the people I trust the most in the world, even Eaze; who came along not so long ago. He's like my little brother; the good kind who never annoys you or tries to make you angry. He's so sweet and fragile, with the blonde curls hanging around his round, unblemished face. I want to protect him from the dangerous world that he lives in. His health is already unstable, having to wear a surgical mask twenty-four-seven. One little push could send him toppling over the edge. I close my eyes. The images begin flooding into my mind.

"Come on, it'll be fun." Once again, Tyki's voice cuts through my thoughts. I find the strength to pull myself away from the horrific images that fill my mind.

"I-I-I do-o-o-n't kn-o-ow," someone stutters. I don't recognise the voice. It is the voice of a man, probably in his late twenties. There's a nervous edge to his voice; one that would innate that of a child's.

The owner of the voice is indeed a middle-aged man. His hair is black, spiked upwards at the back with a white streak of a fringe hanging over most of his face. His sharp facial features twitch anxiously here and there. My eyes lock on the tiny white fangs that protrude from the corner of his mouth. What strange teeth he has. I bet he sharpens them every day. Fang Man; that's what I'll call him.

Tyki's arm is draped over his hunched shoulders.

"Oh. You're no fun," Lize complains loudly. Fang Man's mouth opens several times without emitting a single sound. I manage to get a good look at his sharp fangs. They look sharp enough to pierce flesh. I shiver.

"Yeah. It's just a game of cards. There's no harm." Erne smiles innocently.

The guys are up to their tricks again. Only when they are trying to coax unwary travellers to play cards with them, does Erne carry a genuine grin on his face.

"I-I…"

"There's the lad!" Tyki bellows in triumph, oblivious to the startled expression on Fang Man's face. "Sit, sit."

Tyki forces his hands down on Fang Man's shoulders. Reluctantly, he obeys. What choice does he have?

The rest of the guys sit as well. Eaze and I sit innocently on either side of the group, watching as Tyki deals out the cards. I should stop them, rescue the poor man from his misfortune, but I love to watch the guys play cards. Tyki won't let me because he says I'm too young. Well, what does that say about him, the guy who got his first deck of cards when he was only three?

If the man gets to cold, I'll stop the game. It's a win for everyone.

**Free talk:**

I hope this fanfic finds you well and thanks for choosing to read this!

Writing in first person, in present tense is hard. So this story is an exercise to improve my writing skills.

My OC's (hope you've picked up her name!) dialogue (or supposed dialogue) is written in italics. Can you guess why? ^^

I hope you enjoy this story and what's to come (because there's a lot coming) and please review/critique/comment/subscribe/favourite, whatever. I would much prefer the first three better though. They're a lot more helpful. But if you could all of them, you are skilled my friend!

But please: try to maybe do the first one thank-you. It will be greatly appreciated.

~FSR


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two**

I watch with immense concentration as the game flows on. Aces, spades, queens, kings, jacks, hearts, diamonds; I know them all and I know how to use them to the best of my advantage. I have watched them all too many times dealing out those paper cards. Too bad I can't play. I would already have them stripped down to their underwear.

Lize has won once; Erne, twice; Tyki, four times; and Fang Man has lost all his clothes. He lost everything on the seventh round. That sure was quick. Left in his boxes, snot dribbling from his nose, the poor guy really has no idea what he had gotten himself into.

Guess it's my time to do the right thing; I've have my share of the fun today.

My hand extends to tap Tyki on the shoulder. The door of the carriage swings open. I miss Tyki's shoulder and my hand collides with the arm of the chair. Ow…

Out steps a young boy with…white hair? Isn't he a bit young for so much stress? His eyes are silver. I like that colour. What shall I call him? I can't think of a name that suits.

All our heads turn towards him.

I gaze in amazement. Tyki smiles at the new arrival.

"Sorry fellas. This ain't the place for kids." I notice a spike of red hair sticking out from behind the young boy. There's another boy behind him, much taller. I stand on my knees on the seat to get a better look.

What a strange boy. He has an eye patch over his right eye. I wonder why. Is it an injury? Maybe he was born blind in that eye and it looks glassy on the outside, so he wears an eye patch to save the trouble of people gawking at it. Eye Patch: that's a perfect name for the boy with the flaming red hair and the single sparkling green eye.

Stranger still, both the boys are wearing black. Something shiny catches my eye. I blink in surprise. The shine is coming from a silver cross embroidered on their chests. I reckon they are like grim reapers. The black reminds me of death, darkness. I don't like it. Shivers run down my back; very violent shivers.

My eyes linger on the cross. It is a symbol for something important, I think. What? I don't want to imagine. I can feel it though, the pulsating aura radiating from the shiny silver. And it's not a good feeling either.

I stare at it for a while; longer than I anticipate.

In a blink of my eye, the newcomers have joined Tyki, Krory, Lize and Erne around the makeshift table on the floor. The white haired boy has cards in his hands now.

Hey! This isn't fair! How come he gets to play poker and I don't?

I shoot a look of annoyance at Tyki. He's the one who decides who plays and who doesn't. He's the one to blame.

The white haired boy picks up a card from the pile. His face is completely impassive, unreadable, and emotionless. Those silver eyes hold no glint of glee or excitement, or disappointment. Okay, so he has a pro poker face; so what? I still bet my actual cards would better than his.

He picks up another. I notice that his hands are covered by white gloves. What is there to hide underneath?

He is like eye patch; they both have something to hide.

What innocent looking young boys would already have something sinister to hide?

None of this makes sense.

My head is hurting.

"Straight Flush!"

_What?_

"It's my win again!"

Tyki, Lize and Erne gawk at the younger boy with disbelief. I gawk at them. Where have their clothes gone? My mouth is hanging open as well.

A politely joyful expression engulfs the younger boy's face. A subtle grin is evident. Yet amazingly, his body language remains calm and composed. Beside him, the redheaded eye patch is also shaken with disbelief.

I leap out of my seat to get a better look. Leaning over the crowd, I can clearly see that Tyki, Lize and Erne are quivering at the cold draught that blows through the window. All along Tyki cigarette, there are angry teeth marks. He's still furiously chewing at it, while staring down at the matching set of cards that have been thrown in front of him.

_Wait…did he say again?_

"DAMMIIIIT! One more round!" Lize demands. He is no longer smiling. He must have lost several times. That murderous intent engraved deeply into his blunt features surfaces whenever Tyki beats him too many times to his liking. He is wearing that expression at this very moment. He throws his cards at the floor in frustration.

My head tilts right. I can see that Eaze is unaffected by the happenings around him. I hope he never takes up gambling.

Inside me, I am torn between the urge to leap for joy at the fact that Tyki has been beat at poker, to feel sorry for him as he brought this on himself, to click my tongue at him to tell him that "you deserve it for not letting me play", and to frown explicitly at how the white haired boy had managed to attain a royal straight flush. He's cheating. It's the only explanation. But what a pro cheater he is too.

The cards are dealt out again and more clothes are lost, adding to the boy's pile. I observe his movements closely. No flaws or slips did I catch and he played all his cards perfectly. He's using the best moves, the most undetectable. Poor Tyki, Lize and Erne. The clothes that they worked so hard for: they're never going to get them back. The boy's just too good. I feel sorry for them, yet at the same time, my insides are jumping with glee at the fact that Tyki got owned, finally. My poker face sucks at times like these (which is usually my downfall when I verse Tyki), but Tyki doesn't notice as he hands over his shirt.

They are saved by the bell as the announcer calls out our station name. Disappointed and cold, they stalk off the train with me and Eaze following behind. Even if it isn't shown on his face, I think that Eaze is actually bursting with laughter inside, just like I am. For a child he has learnt to control his emotions well, constantly wearing that perfect poker face.

"Here," the white haired boy calls through the open window. Clutched in his hand are Tyki's and the other guys' clothes. "It's enough that I got my friends clothes back. It'll be painful being nude at this time of the year, right?"

I bite my lip just in time to shut up the giggle that has erupted inside. Tyki scoffs at the boy's wide grin.

"Boy…" Tyki says in a menacing voice. "We won't fall so low as to accept pity when we lose."

It's my turn to scoff at his words and watch with amusement as their hands hover towards their luggage. Three things about Tyki and the others (excluding Eaze): one, they always play dirty in a game of cards; two, they hate losing; three, they suck at being losers.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Eaze's small figure edge towards the window. He has something tightly grasped in his hand.

"Our thanks," he murmurs softly from behind his mask as he extends his hand to the other boy. I'm surprised: Eaze has rarely uttered any words to me in this few years, yet he's willing to talk to a stranger he just met on the train that he'll probably never see again?

I don't know what Eaze is offering to the boy, but Tyki seems to have recognised the object and rushes to stop Eaze.

"Eaze, that thing's your treasure!" He exclaims. The train whistle muffles his voice. "I'll give you something else as a thanks." Tyki rummages through his pockets on his oversized trousers.

Steadily, steadily, the train begins to move, issuing a cloud of steam as it chugs out of the station. The white haired boy skilfully catches the thing that Tyki throws at him: a deck of cards. I grimace at his so-called gift. That was Tyki's lucky deck of cards. He never loses with them; until today. I think he's lost his faith in them.

"I hope things are cool between us then!" he yells as the train speeds into a dark tunnel.

I peer into Eaze's small, enclosed hands. A glimpse of silver blinds my eye.

"Keep a tight hold on that thing, Eaze," Tyki says, tousling Eaze's blonde waves. "I went through a lot of trouble to get that silver for you."

It's the pendant Tyki bought for Eaze on his birthday, the day that we found him and he became a part of this family. Engrossed on the front is a trail of intricate embellishment. It is only about as big as Eaze's tiny palm, threaded through with a thick string. Eaze loves the shiny present, always wearing it on his neck as a lucky charm. What would make him give it to a stranger?

"Yo, Tyki, let's hurry up and meet the factory owner, then get some grub!" Lize yells as his stomach churns loudly. I can hear the low rumble from 5 feet away. I think he can eat a horse right now if his mouth was bigger.

Another sound breaks through the growl of Lize's hunger: a telephone ring. The ringing pierces my ears, screeching like a siren. It belongs to the public phone hanging on the wall of the station. How strange…

Tyki swiftly walks over to it and picks up the ear piece, silencing the shrieking; so typical of Tyki to not find these kinds of things strange. Someone seems to be talking rapidly on the other side as Tyki holds it against his ear, hidden under his dishevels of brown locks. I try to read his expression: neutral, his usual smile, nothing that would arouse suspicion or give away any clues. Damn his poker face.

"Sorry guys, but I've got another job to do!" Tyki says. I knew it.

"You got another secret job? Bastard, you've been getting a lot of those lately!" Lize fumes annoyingly. I agree with him, for once.

"Can't be helped. Guess we'll be going ahead," Erne says cooling, slinging Eaze's bag over his shoulder.

I frown at Tyki, furrowing my eye brows as much as I could; they're almost touching each other now. The edge of my lip pulls towards the ground. My arms loop around my chest with my suitcase swinging in my hand.

"What's with the adorable look, Rose?" Tyki says with a huge grin. He slides over and presses his mouth to my ear. I look away, able to taste the foul stench of smoke lingering around his face. "So, did you enjoy the train ride?"

I flick my hair across his face. He doesn't even flinch.

"You love to see me lose, don't you? Let me tell you that I only lost because it's your special day. That boy got away easy. Next time he'll be the one in his underpants."

I burst into a chorus of wild laughter, all the annoyance washed away from me. My eyes revolve back to his thick lenses as I clutch my stomach painfully. I think I'm going to cry soon.

_Yeah right. You so didn't lose on purpose, even if you did it for me. You're not the type to lose your dignity for someone else._

Tyki shares my smile, weirdly, though it is more of a smirk than anything of amusement. I wipe away an invisible tear from my cheek.

"Sure I am. I admitted to losing, isn't that enough for you? And I made you laugh, didn't I? Sorry if I can't spend the rest of the special day with you, but at least I've given you the perfect present for a day like today."

I am still laughing my head off, as bubbly feeling is rising inside me. Damn Tyki; he knows me too well. He knows everything too well. It's almost like he _knew_ the phone call was coming, that it was especially for him, that he would have to leave before the special day finished and that the perfect present was the finale to the unexpected scene on the usually boring train ride. Hearing the sound of my inaudible voice through laughter _is _annoyingly the best present he can give me. Luckily, Lize cuts through my moment of unconditional gratitude.

"Oi, what are you two laughing about? I'm starving here!" His stomach creates an earthquake as I fall onto my butt. My own stomach is about to explode from all the laughter cramps.

"Sorry man, guess I'll be off then," Tyki says, his lips twitching at the state of me on the ground. His slender fingers tousle the thin strands of hair on my head, pausing for a moment before retracting and following the direction of his footsteps. My laughter subsides and I leap back onto my feet.

_Wait. _

Tyki's back responds to the silent call, turning away from me for the other side to take its place. I feel along the walls of my coat, resting on a bundle of paper. I pull out my sketchpad, flicking it open and ripping off the last page.

_Here. _

I thrust it towards him. He stares at me quizzically through his glasses. How I wish I could see the eyes underneath for once…

_Take it._

He plucks it from my hands and smiles as he looks down at the single sheet of paper.

"Why hello Chestnut, are you helping me with my job?" He says. I think he likes it; I hope he does. Even if it's so rough and unrealistic, it's the best present I can come up with. "Happy birthday seventeenth, Rose."

I smile, turning my back to them and joining Lize, Erne and Eaze.

_Bye Tyki, come back soon._

**Notes:**

Wow, that took a while to write.

So did you like that chapter? If you did, review please! If you didn't, review anyway. Encourage and criticism is always good for an amateur author with improvements to make.

~FSR


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three**

We stop at a tavern on our way to the factory. Its exterior is battered; the wood panelling on the walls has peeled of like rotten skin. There is broken glass all over the entrance, the unhinged entrance. I can hear the violent, obnoxious yells of the drunken men inside who are probably having a fist fight.

I tug on the collar of Eaze's coat and shake my head at him. He stares up to me with unwavering eyes. Of course he is used to the kind of aggressive brutes he hears inside. He is not scared. He is not scared of anything really, or at least does not show it. But he does not know what they can do.

I shake my head more vigorously.

"Come on Rose. Let the little guy have some fun." Lize says teasingly.

My glare only makes him burst out laughing.

"Whatever. We'll be back in a bit."

_Liar, you'll get so drunk you'll fall asleep and forget all about us._

I miss Tyki already. At least he would have some clue about responsibility. That and he would be laughing at me right now.

Lize and Erne stride straight through the dejected door. A loud cheer erupts as they disappear inside. I can hear the clashing of beer glasses.

_Disgusting._

Looking around, I find a nice flat piece of rock and plonk myself down. I pull out my sketchbook once again, flipping it to a new page. The blankness calls to me, yearns for me to fill it with pencil strokes. I scratch my head with the end of my pencil.

What could I draw? The rundown tavern maybe? That'd be challenging. That lovely oak tree? No, I had drawn several of those already. I sigh heavily. Would I be bored to death before Lize and Erne remember us again?

Eaze slowly wanders over, curious about what I was going to draw. His innocent curiosity always shows in his eyes and the way he walks; little steps with excitement in each one. I smile at him, beckoning him to come closer. Of course if he likes it, he will get to keep it. So far, he has liked over half the pictures in my sketchbook, which is why I have only a few pictures and very little pages left. Maybe Tyki will bring me a new one when he comes back.

The wind blows gently at Eaze's golden locks that surround his round face like a picture frame, encasing the innocence within. I have seen it many times before: the untouchable, pure glow that radiates from his face, yet it never fails to remind me that an angel is beside me.

Yes, that is what I will do: capture the innocence and beauty of the angel in front of me onto a piece of paper.

I start with his chin, a curved line, a flawless line. I guide my pencil upwards to create the roundness of his rosy cheeks and as I continue to go up the page, the cheek morphs undetected into a strand of hair. For a moment, I gaze up at Eaze. I just realised how the waviness of his hair blends with his face shape. I add a few more wavy strokes using the edge of the pencil tip to give the illusion that his hair is fluttering, even on the motionless page.

"It's me!" Eaze says softly with delight. I laugh. He sway from side to side; his eyes are shining. Quickly, I print them onto the page.

The only thing left to put in is his mouth, or rather his mask. I poise the tip of the pencil to draw a straight line across the page. On second thoughts…

I plant a curved line instead, in the middle of page between, between Eaze's nose and mouth. It is a simple line, but one that changes everything.

The tip of my pencil snaps off. The tiny piece of lead rolls across the page and over the edge.

Eaze leans over the page. He sees the line.

His hand reaches for the strings looped around his ear and hesitantly, he begins to peel of the mask.

_No, don't. _I shake my head and gently touch his hand. His hand lets go of the mask and settles in his lap.

I stuff the sketchbook into my coat. Not to say I am disappointed by my work: I never am. Creation is always a thing of beauty. But the smile, although it is a joyous, peaceful expression, spawns a sad, nostalgic feeling in my heart.

I am sure Eaze would feel the same, if he knew.

_Stay here, _I gesture to him.

An hour has passed and I just realise only the cooing of the wind can be heard. Inside the tavern, the drunken men must have exhausted the last ounces of their profanity and reduced to a sleeping, snoring mess, including Lize and Erne of course. It was time to go. We should have been at the factory an hour ago.

I grab my suitcase and look back at Eaze as I head towards the tavern.

_I won't be long._

He nods in response.

When I entre the tavern, there is not a conscious soul in sight. With great care I tiptoe over the piles of slumbering giants, cautiously evading a puddle of sick. There is shattered glass, splintered furniture, bruised eyes, but no Lize or Erne. Where have they got to?

A bubble of worry begins to inflate inside my mind. Images of their kidnapping plays like a fuzzy recording. I can see the struggle in front of me, their bodies beaten to a pulp and dragged off through the back door.

"You 'right 'ere missy?"

I spin around, too sharply, almost tripping over a body. It is the bartender of the tavern with his outfit unnaturally clean and undisturbed, considering the mess around him. He is standing behind the bar, holding a dirty rag in his hand and continuously swirling it inside an empty beer mug, only adding to the grime and dirty. How did I miss such strange figure upon entering?

I nod. He smiles. His teeth are yellow, not like the colour of gold but the colour of soil. The hollows of his cheeks swell up in as he does.

"Lookin' for someone?" His voice is deep, raspy.

I nod again. I scratch my elbow, avoiding his gaze.

"Need some help?" He places the mug and rag on the counter loudly. A body stirs below me and rolls towards me, but does not awaken. I take a few steps backward.

I cannot tell him. He cannot hear me. He cannot help me. Lize and Erne have probably wandered off somewhere. Eaze is waiting outside. I shake my head and make the mistake of looking into his eyes; his horrible, gleaming eyes.

"Why?" He stares right back at me, stepping out from behind the bar. He advances towards me. I stumble back, too frightened to look away from his eyes. "What's the matter? Don't you want my help?"

Something changes in his expression. His face darkens. He opens his mouth and bares his teeth. His eyes sink further into their sockets. They are filled with murderous intent. I have seen this look before.

I turn, I run, I trip over a body.

The tavern explodes.

**Free talk:**

So after been MIA for one year, I'm back! For those of you who are still subscribed to this story, or who have stumbled upon it, thank-you for reading this story.

Basically the direction in which DGM was going threw me off and I just lost inspiration to write ): Yes, that is a stupid excuse but I'm trying to make up for it now. I've got my hopes up for DGM once again.

Please review and tell me if I should continue updating.

Thanks!

~FSR


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four**

Everything is on fire, and spreading like a virus. I cannot see it; my eyes are squeezed tightly shut, from the horrible moment when I had fallen face-first onto the floor. But I can feel the heat; my skin is burning. The air is full of smoke; my lungs are filled with it. I bring my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around them like a vice with my suitcase lodged firmly in between.

Everything is falling apart around me. Surely I will be crushed if I stay.

But fear, my heart is pumping it throughout my body. I do not want to move.

And the devil, the devil is behind me. The devil will eat me before I am crushed by the rubble. I cannot move.

A scream slices through the heavy, scorching atmosphere.

I open my eyes by a tiny fraction. It is one of the drunken men, awake from his slumber and screaming his head off as his body is covered in flames. I watch as shock overrides fear. He is burning alive.

As I anticipate the instant when he stops thrashing around and his heart stops beating as he is engulfed by flames, a gunshot is fired.

The man stops moving. His screams subside. Stars materialise on his face like cancer. I am so astounded, so shaken, that when his face is completely covered in black stars and he disintegrates into a pile of cinder, I fail scream in terror.

And when I see the murderer, my voice finally comes through.

My breathe hitches, a sob escapes me.

It is a beast, in the form of a metal ball, with canons protruding from its body; a creation of the devil, something that does not belong to this world. But it is the eyes that make me want to get away from it as far as possible.

They dark, endless: a window straight to the abyss. They are the eyes of the bartender. They are staring straight at me.

I rise unsteadily, hurriedly to my feet and run towards the flash of light ahead of me without taking a single glance behind me.

An image of my family flashes through my mind. We are all smiling, even Erne. Eaze does not have his mask on, just like how I drew him in my sketchbook. And then with a flicker of red, the image catches on fire. It burns and burns until it is reduced to ashes, just like the man.

_Lize, Erne, Eaze_…I have to save them…

_Tyki_…save me!

But he is not here, so I will save myself. I will save Eaze. I will save my family.

I escape the suffocating confines of the destroyed tavern. The blue sky is covered in clouds of smoke now, the sun completely obscured from view. The landscape is ominous and desolate. Eaze is nowhere in sight.

_Eaze! Eaze! Eaze!_

I scream his name. I scream it from the bottom of my heart with all my fear. But he cannot hear me. No one can. Not even myself.

Tears stream down my face. I have only cried three times in my life. This is the fourth and seemingly the last.

The demon emerges from the ruins of the destruction it has causes, emitting an aura of bloodlust. Its canons are loaded. It's going to fire. I'm going to die.

But like a miracle from the heavens, a giant hammer appears out of nowhere. It connects forcefully with the unaware demon and my life is spared.

From behind the clearing explosion of smoke and gas, my saviours dash towards me like knights in shining armour. Their figures are blurry because my eyes have been irritated by the smoulder and the only thing I can make out is a twinkle of metal emblazoned on their chests. And…red hair.

A feeling of relief washes through me, if not just a tiny bit, it is enough to make me collapse onto the floor as I am unable to control my shaking.

Its eye patch and the silver haired boy. In an instant they reach me.

"Are you alright?" asks eye patch, over and over again. His arms fold gently around my shoulders. All I can do is cry in response.

"Lavi, we have to get her help."

"Where's the closest hospital?"

"Not for miles."

"Then we have to take her back to the Order."

Slowly, tenderly, I am lifted from the ground.

For the second time in my life, I am carried away from the burning pits of hell.

* * *

**Free talk:**

Fast update? No?

I had been planning this moment for a while so when it came time to write, all the ideas clicked and just flowed onto the page! Yes it is a bit shorter than the others but I just can't seem to write long action scenes. They're usually just SMASHBANGBOOM. the end.

Hopefully my brain won't go completely blank after this (which it won't, because I've already planned the next bit!)

So hope you have enjoyed and tell me by reviewing (:

~FSR


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter five**

It is early morning. A chill still hangs in the air from the frozen night before. The sun is barely peeping through. Not a soul can be heard in the hallways of the Black Order.

But Lavi Bookman Junior is awake, dressed and already on his way for an early morning session with Bookman. He walks with lethargic movements, practically dragging his feet along the ground. His mouth forms a gigantic yawn as he rubs his one uncovered eye.

He is headed for the library, or at least the makeshift room where all the books and documents are temporarily stored. Many times he had been there at the command of Bookman and majority of those times, had been in the wee hours of the morning. There was no need for his brain to be fully functioning in order to locate the library; it was an automatic journey, programmed into him during the two years and nine months he had spent at the Order.

How quickly those two years had passed in just the blink of an eye, literally…

Past the many unknown, forbidden experimental rooms belonging to Komui, he turns right into a wide corridor. He passes several closed doors, all part of the medical wing, and pauses in his mindless steps when he reaches an opened door.

He hears the voice of the Head Nurse through the slight gap.

"I'm sorry dear, but I have no idea what you mean. Do your arms hurt? Are hungry?"

Lavi hears no words of response and then he remembers the girl from yesterday.

Instead of continuing on his course, he swings the door of the ward wide open and steps inside, purposely placing a wide grin on his face.

"Hey Head Nurse. What's with all this racket so early in the morning?" He adds a tone of exaggerated cheer to his voice.

"I say the same to you Lavi," replies the nurse with a frown.

"Just came to check on the damsel in distress I saved last night."

He walks right up to her bed, arms folded behind his head. He greets her with a smile.

"How are you feeling?"

Lavi guesses the answer before she can open her mouth. He sees the layers of bandage wrapped around both her arms, her hands, her neck, although most of it is covered by the thick waterfall of brown hair that falls over her shoulders. He notes the pasty, yellow tinge of her skin and how she only sits at the top of the bed as if she is trying to be as small as possible. Her dark green eyes stare at him with a spark of recognition, but still they hold uncertainty, cautiousness. They are the eyes of a person who has seen a demon.

But the answer never comes. She doesn't even open her mouth. She simply stares at him and hugs her legs tighter.

"She won't talk," says the matron. "She hasn't uttered a word since waking up. She gave me a quite a fright when I walked in this morning and she just stared at me like a petrified doll. I don't know if she just doesn't want to talk or she can't."

Probably both, Lavi thinks. The aftermath of witnessing a demon always leaves one lost for words.

"She probably just needs some time to recover, but it's very hard when I don't know if she's thirsty or hungry. Perhaps she would respond to you, after all you did save her."

"Perhaps."

Lavi considers the invitation. Bookman could wait. He settles into a chair beside her bed.

"My name's Lavi. Nice to meet you."

She blinks and reaches for the coat on her bedside table. She pulls out a sketchbook.

Lavi watches her flip it open. She holds the page in front of him.

It's a picture of a young boy, a smiling young boy. Lavi recognises him as the young boy from the train who was with the group of card-playing men, except he is not wearing his mask.

"Do you want to know where he is?"

She nods with much more energy.

"That's an improvement," the matron says.

"I'm sorry. I don't know," Lavi says with a sympathetic smile. Her arms fall limply to her side.

But that short moment of hope inspires her. Her face lights up again.

This time, she flips her sketchbook to a new page. Her hands delve into the pockets of her coat again. She pulls out a pencil, with its lead missing from its head. She frowns at it.

"Do you want a pencil?"

She nods at Lavi, delighted that he has understood her both times.

"Miss…?" The matron pulls a pencil out of her breast pocket before Lavi can finish his question. She hands it to the girl, who starts scribbling away.

But it is not words that are formed on the page; it is a picture.

Two circles with a short line connecting them in between.

"Glasses?" Lavi guesses in surprise. She nods. "You mean Thick-Lens? I don't know where he is either."

Her face falls in utter dismay.

"Maybe if you gave us some names dear, we could try find them for you," asks the matron gently. The girl shakes her head.

Lavi curses in his mind for not asking for their names. It would make things a lot easier.

"I don't think she knows how to write," says Lavi.

"She doesn't speak or write? Well I'm stuck then."

"But she sure can draw well. Maybe a little creativity would help. Do you think you can draw something that sounds like their names?" Lavi asks her. She chews her lips as she thinks. Then she shakes her head.

And then her face lights up again. It seems inspiration comes easily to her. Amazed, Lavi wonders what picture could possibly represent a name.

When she finishes seconds later and holds it up, he sees the name straight away.

"Rose."

She nods happily and points at herself.

"It suits you." Lavi remarks.

Weather Rose did not agree, or did not care, she simply lays her to rest beside her and sighs like an enormous weight had just been lifted off her shoulders.

"Well thank-you Bookman junior," says the head nurse, sounding like she means it. "You've made a lot of progress with her but she needs some rest. Maybe you can come back another time."

"No problem at all Miss. Glad to be of-"

Something connects with Lavi's head most painfully. He yells at the sting it leaves behind, causing Rose to gasp in surprise.

"Idiot apprentice! Don't be so full of yourself."

Bookman has entered unbeknownst to Lavi and slapped him mercilessly, as goes his usual method of discipline.

"That hurt Old Panda!" Lavi protests.

"Shut up fool! You don't show up at your lesson and I find you playing around in the medical ward?"

Inadvertently, Bookman extends his arm to Lavi's head again and grabs him by the ear. He twists his wrist slightly and pulls the red head towards the exit.

"Ow, ow, ow…bye Rose! Nice to meet…" Lavi yells as he is dragged unceremoniously from the room.

When they are out of sight, Bookman lets Lavi drop to the floor with a loud thud. "What was that for Gramps, I was going anyway." Lavi wipes the dust of his shirt.

"Do not meddle in the affair of others. That girl is not of your concern."

"I was just being friendly."

"You are wasting your time. If you carry on like this, you'll-"

"Alright Gramps, I've got it already. I must not get attached to those I people I save."

He had heard this several times, too many times to his liking.

"Not to anyone. Do not forget the bigger picture here. We are here to record the history of the war between Exorcists and the Millennium Earl. The individual is not significant."

With an indignant sigh, Bookman marches off. Lavi watches his small figure move away and sighs himself.

No, had it not been for him, she would have come a piece of history, lost in its pages forever.

* * *

**Free talk:**

Two updates in two days straight! Yes, hope I can keep this up. It sure is time consuming O:

Nevertheless, hope you guys liked this chapter. It's kind of a break chapter (I apologise if you found it boring), a bridge between the first arc and what is to come…? –suspense- Anyway, it felt necessary to me. I mean, I would want a break after losing my family and getting attacked by Akuma, wouldn't you? Either way, there will be a few more chapters like this, just Rose getting to know the Order and such.

And to **SkySight49**, thanks for the review and you are totally right about the publish date in relation to the number of chapters. Appalling, I know! ): I abandoned this fanfic when the Alma/Kanda arc began because it was just too mind-fuggling. But its picking up again so I am too! I'll make up for it by updating faster, I promise I will!

Thanks for reading!

~FSR


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter six**

"You are free to leave the infirmary now. Your burns have healed up quite nicely."

I touch the newly recovered skin, finally unveiled after a week beneath a thick, hot, annoying layer of bandages. They feel light, a little stiff, but renewed nevertheless. The burns are the worst injury I have ever suffered, however the recovery has been the swiftest, probably because it was professionals doing the healing, not someone like Tyki.

My heart throbs as his name pops into mind.

I've refrained from allowing my thoughts to wander back to my family. It hurts to know that I may never see them again. Based on the records of the Black Order, my name does not exist therefore there is no way to make connections to Tyki, Lize, Erne or Eaze. Never have I been so frustrated at my stubborn voice and my lack of education.

I am grateful though, for the efforts of the Order and everything else they have done for me so far. I feel very lucky indeed to have received such kind services from utter strangers, which makes me wonder about Lize, Erne and Eaze…

In my mind, I see the worried faces of Lize and Erne, who have returned to Eaze after they'd taken the wrong door while leaving the tavern in a haze of drunkenness. They discuss the possibilities of my disappearance right in front of Eaze with loud, booming voices. Eaze's expression though is as nonchalant as ever.

"_She's gone after Tyki," says Lize, "Like last time, remember?"_

"_Oh yeah," _ _says Erne. "When he left the first time…we thought she'd got kidnapped!"_

"_Bloody hilarious when we called Tyki and he had to go after her…"_

"_Downright pissed he was. Nah, no need to worry. We don't have to call Tyki. She'll be back in a few days…"_

Okay, so they're not that worried. And they have each other. I don't need to worry about them either. I just have to get back to them before they do call Tyki…

My attention focuses back to the nurse in front of me.

A smile stretches across my face as the nurse fusses over me. She is not the matron, who has looked after me for the majority of this week, though seems to care just as much. She even gave me a new coat and everything.

If only Eaze was here; maybe she could cure him.

"Yes I think you're good to go." She says after checking every inch of my arm. "Don't do anything that involves excessive strain of your arms and just take it easy!"

She bends down to retrieve my suitcase and hands it to me. I take it from her slender fingers, confused. She guides me gently by the elbow and stops at the door.

"Bye-bye now!"

Before I have a chance to show my confusion, the door slams in my face. Dazed, my mouth hangs open like a codfish. What was that for?

Perhaps she has more important things to attend to, or maybe she assumes that I know where I am going, that I have somewhere to go.

My hand lifts to knock on the door.

I supposed it wouldn't hurt to wonder around a bit.

No one would notice that I'm gone anyway.

My hand lowers.

I look to my right down a straight, dark corridor of doors. The further I look, the darker the corridor seems to become until my eyes can no longer make out where the floor ends and the wall starts.

This way seems like a good way to start.

As I move closer, my eyes adjust to the transition of light and finer details start coming through. The walls are not as neat and well maintained as the ones outside the infirmary; the white paint is peeling off. Blotches of some kind of dark substance are stained in the strangest patterns. I touch my fingertips to the substance. It's dry, flaky and smells like metal.

Blood perhaps? I shudder.

A loud bang erupts from a door beside me. My heart almost jumps out of my mouth.

A ghost perhaps? It doesn't seem to like my presence. I turn to leave.

I collide with something hard.

Tentatively, my eyes wonder upwards and meet a pair of glowing, black eyes.

"You're in my way."

The owner of the voice stares at with annoyance. Did I do something wrong? His facial expression matches his voice, all the delicate, refined features contorted to form unhappiness. Through the dim light, I perceive a ponytail of hair swishing behind him. Had it not been for his voice, I might have mistaken him for a girl, a very angry girl.

"I said you're in my way."

His brows furrow even more. I realise I have been staring at him for a while too long, or his patience is simply non-existent. Either way, I bow my head in a small apology and I try to walk around him.

I accidently step on something as I do.

"Watch where you're stepping…" he says in the same irritated voice.

Oh no! Did I just step on his foot? A murderous vibe pulsates in the air, reminding me of the Akuma that had attacked at the tavern.

* * *

Lavi cheerfully whistles to himself as he ambles along the deserted corridor. He is heading to his bedroom to catch up on some sleep, or rather sneak in some extra hours before Komui sent him on another mission. Not only are they tiring, but extremely time-consuming, as they left so much time for sleeping.

Now he thinks about it, he has been getting a lot of mission in this past week, ever since he visited Rose in the infirmary. Something in his intellectually advance conscious tells him Bookman had something to do with it…Even though Lavi has ensured him that he will never talk to her again, Bookman remains vigilant as ever. Curse that Old Panda for not having faith in him.

He rounds the corner, entering the formidable corridor of Komui's private experiements. The temperature seems drop dramatically.

Even worse, he notices a dark figure in front of him. A deadly aura surrounds the figure and Lavi cannot help but imagine Komui with an evil grin on his face. He shivers violently at the though.

But as he gets closer, things become so much worse than he has anticipated.

It is not Komui, but Kanda with a look to match that of an Akuma. Behind him, stands Rose, staring at him with a clueless expression. Everything spells trouble.

"Yu! How's it going? Haven't seen you for ages." Lavi prances up to Kanda quickly and loops his arms around the unsuspecting Exorcists shoulders. Kanda shifts his focus to the sudden intrusion of privacy he feels on his back.

"Get off me idiot-rabbit," he says, practically growling at Lavi, who sighs in relief. Now that Kanda isn't going to kill Rose but him instead, Lavi quickly lets go. He notices Kanda's hand millimetres away from Mugen and twitching restlessly. "And don't you dare call me Yu again or I'll-"

Before Kanda can finish, Lavi grabs Rose by the hand and pulls her away from attacking range.

"Got to go now Yu! Catch up later!" He dashes away, towing Rose behind him, leaving Kanda baffled and angrier still. It is risk he had foreseen, but he would pay for it later.

They finally stop running when they reach the elevator and Lavi presses desperately at the down button. With a 'ding!' the doors slide open and Lavi jumps inside, with Rose following him. The doors slide shut again.

"Phew," says Lavi, wiping the sweat off his head. "That was close."

He looks at Rose, who is staring at him a little flustered and baffled from the exercise, and grins widely. Getting Kanda angry has always been an enjoyable hobby of his and this time was no different. It is unfortunate that Rose had gotten caught up in it though. What a bad first impression…not that Kanda would care.

"Now what were you doing, getting some like Kanda Yu mad?"

Rose purses her lips sheepishly. She lifts her foot and pretends to stomp on Lavi's.

"I've tried that before. Works every time."

Rose shakes her head with wide eyes, clearly denying that she had done it on purpose. Lavi laughs at the expression.

"Of course, it was an accident. That's what I always say."

A smile slowly spreads across Rose's face when she realises he is joking. The mild smile develops into a chorus of laughter.

"So you do have a voice then." Lavi says. He likes the way it sounds like bells tinkling, but it immediately diminishes when the words leave Lavi's mouth. The sudden change stirs Lavi's curiosity. "Sorry, touchy topic? I won't ask then."

Rose smiles again, like she is happy Lavi sensed the tension so easily and quickly.

"You're always in need of saving, aren't you? Lucky for you I'm here."

Lavi raises his hand over Rose's head and gently tousles her hair. He withdraws quickly when Rose tries to meet his gaze with a questioning look that says 'why'd you do that?'

Good question, Lavi thinks to himself. Maybe it is because her head is at the perfect height of reach and he just couldn't resist. The excuse satisfies him.

But a better question, pops to mind: why are you still here? This is exactly what Bookman is always lecturing him about. That, and he is missing out on sleeping time.

The door of the elevator slides open. The two of them out.

"Come on, I'll show you around."

* * *

**Free talk:**

Thanks for your opinions guys! Sorry I haven't replied to you individually: for some reason your review doesn't show up so I can't reply ): glitch in the system maybe? So most of you basically said I should continue if I want…SO…I've decided to persistent with one chapter in present tense.

How does it sound so far? I feel quite disappointed with this chapter and a little put off by it. It felt really awkward to write, I don't know who to explain it. Didn't check for grammar and such so, sorry!

I'll be going on holidays soon, so I say sorry in advance for not updating for a week or so.

I think I say sorry too much.

Wish you guys a happy new year!

~FSR


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